


Man's Best Friend

by Demon_Cookie101



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (no im not), Character Death, im v sorry, irregular time settings, major sads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9899120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demon_Cookie101/pseuds/Demon_Cookie101
Summary: He named her Artesimia, Arte for short.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is why I shouldn't be allowed near death prompts.
> 
> I wrote this while listening to 'Fix You' by Coldplay. I can't tell whether it helped or not.

It was a drunk driver.

That’s what the police told you. Some truckie got pissed on a Wednesday afternoon and hit him full on after running a red light.

You don’t know what to feel. What to do.

Feferi’s been inconsolable, Karkat went quiet.

You just feel numb.

Eridan’s been your friend since the end of highschool. He came in your last year, rocked up with impeccable style, a stutter and more sass than Vriska and Karkat put together. You hated him.

Then something happened, you don’t remember. There was a science assignment you had to do together with him. You got to see his house, empty and lonely with his brother gone and father overseas nearly all the time. You got to see him get passionate about the things he’s interested in. He didn’t seem so obnoxious and _above_ you anymore.

He became your friend.

You both went to the same university. You for computer programming and game development, him for creative arts, creative writing. He had his own apartment, a little flat to the north of the university campus. He got a dog within his first year. A little terrier, an Irish terrier or something. She chewed the eight pages of your character design worksheets to shreds within three minutes of you coming over. Eridan only laughed at you.

He named her Artesimia. Arte for short.

She’s looking up at you now, her ears flat against her head as she tilts her head to the side. It’s been three hours since the police informed you that your best friend had died, and you’re standing in his fucking apartment looking down at his fucking dog and wondering what the fuck you’re supposed to do now.

There’s an unfinished puzzle on the end of his dining table. You don’t know why you notice it.

You don’t even know why you’re here. Maybe, just maybe, if you go into his room and walk back out again, he’ll be there pouring over his stupid art history books and waiting for you.

Arte’s still sitting by the door when you come out and it hits you. She’s fucking waiting for him. She’s waiting for Eridan to come home. She sits by the front door and waits and watches and you haven’t cried, you haven’t cried but oh fuck do you want to now.

She doesn’t want to go with you. She doesn’t want to leave the apartment, but you can’t _leave her there._ She writhes and whines in your arms, and sulks in the front seat of your car when you finally get her in. Karkat is sitting on your couch when you finally get home. He takes one look at her and starts crying again, his hands covering his mouth. Your own voice is choked when you try to explain the squirming whining dog in your arms. “I-I couldn’t leave her. Not there, I couldn’t leave h-her alone.”

You put her down on the floor and she immediately goes to the door and whines, scratching at it and you can’t take her back to his empty flat.

You go and find tissues instead, and sit beside Karkat on the couch. Arte comes and sits by your feet eventually, probably thinking that you’ll take her home eventually.  
  


* * *

 

You don’t take her home.

You keep her. Feferi wouldn’t take her. Karkat lives on campus and couldn’t. Eridan’s father took one look at the dog and told you to have her. You saw him at his… at Eridan’s funeral. You didn’t speak to him bar asking whether he wanted anything to happen to her.  You couldn’t. He looks too much like Eridan, even though he’s far older.

You brought Arte to Eridan’s funeral. You just had to. You refused to leave her behind, and you glared at each and every person who made a comment. You had to go back to Eridan’s to find her lead, because you stupidly didn’t bring it the first time. You find a collection of stupid fucking dressy dog collars in the cupboard by the door, along with a heap of other shit obviously meant for her. You should have known he would have gotten stuff like this. It’s Eridan. Of course he got shit for his dog.

He got her a bowtie collar. A purple one.

You put it on her for his funeral, and you haven’t yet taken it off.

Her favourite toy is a squeaky flat bear, and she’ll drink water out of the dog bowl with dots on it but won’t eat out of it. She’s picky over her kibble, but then you’ll wake up during the night and hear her munching away at it like it’s the first food she’s seen in months. She’s weird, and picky, and can swap between high activity and sleeping all day and every time you look at her, you see Eridan.

She looks at you sometimes, with wide brown eyes and floppy ears and you can imagine her asking, wondering, where Eridan is. Why he hasn’t come by yet.

You don’t know how to tell her what you can’t (don’t want to) begin to wrap your own head around.

How do you tell a dog its owner is dead?

You think she knows, anyway, the longer the days drag on. You don’t keep track of the days, don’t mark it down on your calendar. You go to class, you go to Karkat’s, you go to Feferi’s, you come home, you sit with Arte and her silly squeaky toy and try to summon up the will to acknowledge the fact that your best friend is dead and there isn’t a damned thing you can do about it.

You want to be angry. You want to rage and scream and tell everyone that it’s not fair. They can’t do this. Can’t take him away. You want to yell at everyone you come across.

You don’t yell, because the only time you have since he died, Arte cowered.

It broke something in you, the last remaining shreds of your composure, as you looked at this dog cowering under the table. She looked so confused, so hurt, and you’re crying before you realise it. She comes over to you after a few moments, and you cling to her warm body as you just cry. Eridan’s gone. He’s dead, and all that’s left of him is a half-finished puzzle, a nearly completed manuscript and a dog.  
  


* * *

 

  
Arte sleeps on your bed now. You don’t know when you let her, or when it really started. You’ve had her bed in your room for a while, because she seems to like the company and you found her bed in Eridan’s room. She’s stopped looking up every time a car drives past, every time the door opens. You think she understands that he’s not coming back for now. You didn’t, and still don’t, want to google whether dogs can understand death. Maybe she just thinks he’s gone for an extended holiday.

She has you now, though. And you have her, so you keep her bed in your room and let her sleep on your bed.

You wake up to feel her curled up against the back of your legs, and it nearly sends you into tears. She used to do that with Eridan. Either curled up against his chest or his legs. He told you that it’s easier to sleep like that, easier to sleep with the warmth and weight of her against him. You didn’t question it, because he’s always been sort of lonely and even though it never made sense to you, it obviously worked so why question it?

But you understand now. Arte’s curled up against the back of your legs, her muzzle resting on your hip and you have to close your eyes tight and count to ten before you shift a little and look down at her. She simply adjusts herself and continues snoozing on, even when you gently rest your hand on her head.

Eridan’s gone. He’s dead and gone. But you have Arte, and even though it’s not the same, it’s enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *finger guns*


End file.
